


In Due Time

by Peanutbutterer



Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-25 20:08:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/957119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peanutbutterer/pseuds/Peanutbutterer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Kens, why are we sitting on the floor in your bathroom?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Due Time

Deeks leans against the door frame. "Hi."

"Hi."

"What's up?"

"Not much."

He opens his mouth to call her on the obvious lie, but decides against it. Instead, he asks, "Whatcha doin?"

"Waiting."

"You know," he says, scratching at his scruff, "traditionally people wait _outside_ the bathroom until they have to pee."

"Traditionally. When have we ever been traditional?"

"In regards to urinating? I'd say right up until this moment right here." He tilts his head. "Although there was that one time with the Tesla coil."

When she doesn't respond, he pushes off the door frame and steps into the bathroom. He crosses to the far wall and lowers himself to the ground beside her. She doesn't react to his presence - hasn't, actually, since he's arrived. She's just sitting there, staring at nothing and looking very solemn.

"You sure nothing's up? 'Cause you seem a little," he tries to think of the word that's least likely to earn him a punch, " _off_."

"Did you bring pizza?"

"I did. I also brought beer. Would you like one?" He gestures between her and the toilet. "It might speed this peeing process along."

She shakes her head. "No, I had some water."

"Okay." He pulls his legs up to his chest, mirroring her position.

"Okay."

He waits a moment, but not a long one, before bumping his knees against hers. "Kens, why are we sitting on the floor in your bathroom?"

"There aren't any chairs in here."

He nods to the toilet. "Well, there's one."

She rolls her eyes. "You can't let me land a smartass remark without countering with one of your own?"

"Yours was a smartass remark?"

"I hate you."

"I have it on good authority that isn't actually true."

"Oh?"

"Average authority?" he hedges. "Eric thinks you have a crush on me."

That gets her to turn and look at him. "How do you know that?"

"He told me."

She shakes her head and returns her gaze to the nothingness on the wall in front of her. "He's wrong."

"I know. It's so far beyond a crush at this point it's not even in the same time zone."

She snorts. "In your dreams."

He pinches his arm. "Nope. Looks like it's in my reality."

"Ugh." Her eyes rolls again. "Once."

"But it was a good once. It was the kind of once you can relive over and over." And over and over and over and over, but he leaves that part out.

"Please tell me you're not picturing me naked right now."

"I haven't stopped picturing you naked since the first time I saw you."

"You're a pig."

"I can't be held responsible for how breathtakingly gorgeous you are."

In what is possibly the most surprising moment in the history of their relationship as colleagues, partners, friends, and whatever it is they have going on between them now, Kensi starts crying.

His face falls, mischievousness replaced by something in between anguish and utter confusion. "Kens? Kens. Come on. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you, I -"

She waves him off, tears providing a silent staccato accompaniment to her sobs.

"Did I upset you? I mean, I meant it as a compliment. It was a compliment," he insists - the words spill out of his mouth, tripping over themselves in the rush to escape. He's always imagined himself playing it cool in this situation - knowing exactly the right thing to say, the right way to handle this. To handle her. The reality is exactly the opposite.

"Seriously, Kens, gorgeous is a good thing, not like, I don't know, maybe you misheard it as enormous? Which is the last thing I would ever say. That doesn't even make sense. Breathtakingly enormous? Well, I guess it makes sense if you - wait, no. I just meant it made sense from a theoretical standpoint. Like, those words aren't totally unrelated. This isn't helping at all, is it?"

She's still crying, sobs slipping out through her slightly parted lips.

Okay, so babble is clearly not helping. He forces himself to stay silent and reaches over, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into his side. He holds her there and lets her cry.

After a while, the tension flows out of her body and she sags into him. Her breaths come slower and deeper and then she starts -

"Are you laughing?"

She sniffles and swipes a hand under her eyes. "Maybe? God, I don't even know."

He has no clue what's going on. She's gone from slightly catatonic to uncontrollable sobs to laughing in under ten minutes. He's more than a little freaked out. He's a lot freaked out. "Kens, can you please tell me what that was?"

"Shouldn't you tell me, Detective? I thought you were supposed to detect."

He relaxes a bit at the return of the Kensi he's used to. "It's my day off."

She reaches over behind the trash can and pulls out a crumpled paper bag.

"Are we hobos now?"

She sniffles again and swipes at her nose with the back of her free hand. "Not booze."

He takes the bag and looks inside. "A pregnancy test?"

She nods.

"Are we - I mean, are you? Is it, uh..." Jesus. A complete sentence would be nice right about now. Idiot.

"I don't know, I don't know, and yes, you idiot."

Okay, so they agree on the fact that he's an idiot. That's reassuring. "You realize it's not opened? My detecting skills may be sub-par right now, but I'm pretty sure that means you haven't actually taken it yet," he says, pulling out the box with unsteady hands.

"I don't have to pee."

"Hence the waiting."

"Hence the waiting."

He swallows the lump in his throat and tries to tamp down on his emotions. "Okay, well, can I wait with you?"

"Are you going to leave when I pee?"

"Sure, yeah, of course. Otherwise, it'd get really weird, right?"

She shrugs. "Maybe you could stay."

That'll save him from pretending he's not plastered against the other side of the door, trying to divine the answer by proximity. "I could stay."

"But turn around."

"Okay, yeah. That makes it less weird."

She looks at him, eyes still watery and nose red. "What am I going to do?"

"We'll figure it out."

"Am I supposed to say, 'We always do'?"

"Well, we do, don't we?"

"We've never dealt with this before."

"You're Kensi Blye. You love a good challenge."

"Can I handle this one?"

"You can handle almost anything."

She bristles a little and despite everything, he smiles.

" _Almost_ anything?"

"I'd hate to see you survive a global sugar shortage."

"That would be awful."

"See? There are worse things than -"

"I have to pee." She puts her hand on his thigh and pushes herself up, a little frantic. "I have to pee!"

"Oh, shit, okay, here!" He stands up, ripping open the box and pulling out a stick, another one dropping on the floor as he fumbles with the package. "Wait, why are there two? Do you have to do it twice?"

"I don't know! Read the box." She holds out her hands. "Give me one."

He tosses her a stick and scans the instructions while she tears it out of the individual wrapper. "No, no, you're good. One will do it."

"Okay, so I just - I should have read the instructions during all that waiting."

He scans a little more. "Just pee a little and then stick the stick in the stream and keep peeing."

She looks at him with a frown on her lips and panic in her eyes. "How do I not pee on my hands?"

He looks back at the instructions. "It doesn't say, but I'd assume your excellent marksmanship puts you at an advantage over the rest of the population."

She's pulling down her jeans. "That's reassuring."

He pivots around when he sees her underwear slide off her hips. God, what is the protocol for this? Does he have to close his eyes if he's not facing her? Should he cover them?

"Sing," she instructs.

"Sing?"

"I don't want you to hear me pee!"

"Kensi, I think that -"

"If you tell me I am being irrational I will brutally assault you with a shampoo bottle."

"That would be a felony."

"Not if I don't leave any evidence."

"You would do that to the possible father of your possible unborn child?"

"You are the guaranteed father of the possible unborn child and yes, yes I would. Particularly because you are using that as leverage long before I'm ready to make light of this!"

Yeah, okay. He acknowledges that was too soon. "Don't you have to pee?"

"Sing!"

He does. "Been working, so hard. I'm punching my card. Eight hours for what? Oh tell me what I got."

He doesn't hear any peeing.

"You done?"

"Keep singing!"

"I got this feeling that time's been holding me down. I'll hit the ceiling or else I'll tear up this town. Now I gotta cut loose -"

"Okay, stop."

"Footloose!"

"Deeks!"

He turns around as she's pulling up her pants. He tries not to look. "I couldn't end it there, it wouldn't have been right."

She rolls her eyes.

"So." He eyes the test that sits ominously on the edge of the sink. "Three minutes."

"Three minutes."

"And then we'll know."

"And then we'll know."

They're standing a few feet apart and the distance suddenly seems overwhelming. Everything seems overwhelming, but the distance most of all. "Can I be excited?"

She looks at him like he just asked if the moon is made of green cheese. "Excited?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, I know we didn't plan this and it's going to throw everything into chaos but -" It probably isn't the time for this. Maybe it isn't what she needs to hear but, god, it's tugging at him. He needs to say it - has to say it - or he's going to burst. He takes a deep breath and makes a decision that is either going to be the best or the worst one he's ever made. No pressure.

"Kens, you know how I feel about you."

"Deeks," she warns.

He shakes his head. "I know we said we'd forget it. I know we said it was a one time thing, I know we said we don't want things to change, we don't want to risk what we have, but -"

"Deeks."

"But you're everything to me, Kensi. And baby or no baby I want you." He crosses to her and takes her hands in his because he needs to touch her. "I want to fall asleep with you at night, to wake up with you in the morning. I want to kiss your morning breath and see your hair all mussy and then have you grumble a little and fall back asleep."

She laughs a watery laugh.

"I want to make you pancakes and do the dishes together and spend Sundays sorting laundry while we catch up on reality tv."

"That sounds very domestic."

"Well, this may come as a shock to you, but most people do laundry at some point in their lives. The thing is, I want to do it with you. I want to do everything with you. Hell, I've already hung out in the bathroom when you pee."

She squeezes his hand as she glares.

"This isn't how I imagined telling you this, but it doesn't change the fact that I was going to. I'm not okay with the status quo. I can't handle pretending I don't want something more - I do. I want everything."

"Even if everything includes a baby?"

"Do you even have to ask?"

"I may or may not be completely rational right now."

"I wasn't saying that."

"For the record, you're not being completely rational either."

"Probably not."

"But all that stuff you said -"

"One hundred percent true. And even in your not completely rational state you know that. You've known that."

"And you know that I," she wipes her nose with her shoulder, "I..."

"I know, Kens."

She steps closer so she's flush against him, their hands still clasped. Her head drops to his shoulder and her next words are muffled. "I'm terrified."

"I'm here." He slips his hands out of hers and slides them up her back. "I'm always going to be here."

"Thank you," she says, still muffled.

"Always."

She pulls away. "It's been three minutes."

"Yeah."

"Will you check?"

He makes a face. "I'm going to get your pee all over my fingers."

She punches him in the shoulder. "I didn't pee on the handle."

"You were the one who was worried about it!"

"Would you just go check the damn test?"

"Yes, ma'am." He tilts her chin up so that he can look into her eyes. "No matter what."

She nods.

He goes over to the sink and doesn't even have to grab the test in order to see the bright blue plus sign. His heart lodges itself securely in his throat. "Positive."

"Positive as in..."

"As in a positive result, a plus sign," he turns to face her, grin impossibly wide, "a baby."

"A baby."

He whoops. "A baby!"

"You're happy."

He nods, unable to suppress his grin. "Are you happy?"

"I don't know. Is that okay?"

"That's okay," he assures her. "Do you want some food?"

"Food?"

"Yes, food. Pizza. I brought pizza, remember? Unless Monty's eaten it all, it's on the table out there. With beer. Which you can't have. And I won't have. For solidarity. Or support or something."

"You can have beer."

"Can I have pizza? I'm starving. And you should eat. Are you hungry?"

She nods. "I'm going to have ice cream."

"That sounds great. Two scoops or three?"

"Three. I'm eating for two now."

"Totally valid. I'll grab it." He snags her hand before she crosses toward the door. "Do I get to kiss you?"

She leans up and presses her lips to his. It's soft and gentle and brief, but it still warms him all the way to his toes. "You do."

"Do I get to kiss your belly?"

"Too soon."

"Which is not a 'never.'"

She laughs. "Ask me again after I've had the ice cream."

He smiles and leads her out of the room.


End file.
